


Scars

by goodtimes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Asphyxiation, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Hand Jobs, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodtimes/pseuds/goodtimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan and Kavinsky hang out in Kavinsky's car and Kavinsky shows off a scar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to get this out of my system. Wrote it on my phone. Sorry if the formatting is off.

They're in Kavinsky's car and Ronan isn't sure what time it is but it's dark and the weakly lit cabin of the car feels like a boat floating in the dark of the desert. They're drunk and they're high, sitting in the back seat next to each other. Not on coke this time, just weed, and beer, empty cans lying on the floor between their feet, and they're slow and lazy and Kavinsky has slowly slid further and further down into his seat like melting ice cream. Kavinsky's eyes are half closed but Ronan still feels like he's watching him carefully. Kavinsky smiles, the kind of sleepy, lazy smile that carries a certain smugness with it and lifts his hand, runs it over the bare skin of Ronans shoulder. Ronan thinks that maybe he should have worn a t-shirt instead of the tank top, worn something that covered more skin, but Kavinsky's fingers light up a trail of goosebumps where they touch him, and maybe he doesn't really care about his clothes that much. He takes a sip of his beer, it's still ice cold even though they have been sitting in the car for hours, so it's probably something Kavinsky dreamt. His mouth still feels dry though. He looks straight ahead, doesn't want to face the boy next to him. 

"Did you know that today is the anniversary of my father's attempt on my life?" Kavinsky says. He still traces patterns on Ronans skin as he continues: "He tried to gut me with a fishing knife."  
Kavinsky unfolds himself from his sunken down position, pulls himself up against Ronan and whispers into his ear.  
"I almost died."  
Ronan shudders when he feels his breath on the thin skin on the shell of his ear and turns to look at him. He looks into Kavinsky's eyes, really looks, and doesn't know if it's sadness he sees there. Not quite. Something beyond sadness. A misplaced sort of wild joy. Like Kavinsky wants to scare him with his grotesque life, wants him to run away in disgust.  
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Ronan says. He doesn't know what kind of reaction he was expecting, but when Kavinsky laughs it feels right.  
"I still have a scar," he says, and he's still close, running his fingers from Ronan's shoulders all the way down his arms to his wrists, his nails running over the veins there.  
"Do you want to see?" Kavinsky whispers, and Ronan half expects him to just show him, but no. The question hangs in the air between them because Kavinsky wants him to admit that he wants to.  
Ronan licks his lips.  
"Yes." 

Kavinsky crawls on top of him, straddles him with his thighs on each side of Ronan's. Drapes himself over him like a snake sizing up its victim before it wraps itself around it and crushes it.  
Kavinsky pulls his white tank top over his head. There isn't a lot of light in the car and Ronan can only faintly make out some kind of line cutting over his stomach, made grey by the shadows. Kavinsky touches his chin, tilts it up towards his face. Time moves very slowly. Ronan can feel his heart beating heavily but it feels far away, like a bass pumping in another room. Kavinsky takes his hand and moves it to the skin on his chest. Guides it down towards his navel and over the raised line of skin, the place where death almost entered his body all that time ago. Neither of them looks down. Kavinsky stares at him, refuses to break eye contact. He guides his hand further down to where he's hard in his pants.  
"Talking about your father trying to kill you gets you hard?"  
Ronan tries to sound playful but it comes out as a deep whisper. He swallows.  
Kavinsky opens his pants and shoves down his boxers. He leans in and rest his forehead against Ronan's and his voice sounds breathy when he says: "Are you really gonna get on my case about daddy issues? You of all people?" 

He kisses Ronan then, and Ronan feels like he's gonna explode. Kavinsky takes his hand again, makes it wrap around his cock. It feels strange, soft and firm, and Kavinsky groans into his mouth and rocks into his grip unashamed and demanding. He runs his hand trough the short stubble on Ronan's head, grips his chin, pushes him up against and down into the seat with his kisses and the movement of his hips, tugs off Ronan's top and grips on to his shoulders tight, flexes his hands around his throat once, quickly, and Ronan hears himself moan before he even realizes that he's making any sound, and he can feel Kavinsky smile with Ronan's lower lip caught between his teeth and his cock poking against his stomach. 

He opens Ronan's jeans and touches him too, and they're both panting and pushing against one another, Ronan with one hand around Kavinsky's cock and the other holding on tightly to his shoulder, clinging to him like he'll fall down if he lets go. Kavinsky with a hand around Ronan's cock and the other running over his chest, pinching him, back at his neck, pulling him in for another hard kiss, returning to his throat, just playing with it, teasing the boy under him with the knowledge that Kavinsky could kill him if he wanted to and that Ronan would provably let him try.  
"Do you want me to hurt you Lynch?" Kavinsky says, and Ronan breathes out "yes" and Kavinsky comes at that, tightening his hand around Ronan's throat and Ronan comes at that, a choked moan exploding out of him as he comes over Kavinsky's scar.


	2. Chapter 2

"u awake?"

"fuck off"

"wanna see my scar again" 

Ronan tells himself that he'll open the door so he can go down to where the Mitsubishi is parked and punch Kavinsky in the face, but Kavinsky is waiting outside and pushes inside past Ronan and Ronan doesn't really mind. Kavinsky is high, jittery, dancing around Ronan as they walk to his room. 

Ronan stands by the door, isn't really sure what to do with himself as Kavinsky circles around the room inspecting his things, running his fingers over everything. It's a hot night and Ronan's blankets are discarded on the floor in a rumpled heap, thrown down with an angry huff earlier. Ronan is only wearing boxers.  
"Don't touch my stuff," he says.  
"I'll touch your stuff all I want," Kavinsky says, and he doesn't even bother looking at Ronan when he says it.

"Come here," Kavinsky says as he sits down on Ronan's bed. Ronan walks across the floor slowly. Kavinsky is sitting with thighs parted. Ronan stands between them.   
"You're such an asshole," he says, just to say it.   
Kavinsky places his hands on his hips, rubs his thumbs over the raised bones there. The bottom part of Ronan's stomach flips. Kavinsky drags him down onto the bed, lays him down on his back. He fishes a ziplock bag out of his jeans pocket.  
"Be still," he says to Ronan, and sprinkles his skin with coke, right above this waistband of his boxers. He uses a credit card to make it neat and leans down, snorts if off Ronan's stomach. Ronan shudders. Kavinsky throws his head back and drags the back of his hand over his nostrils, shakes his head a few times.   
"Do you want some?" he asks and Ronan nods.   
Kavinsky lays out a line on his nightstand and Ronan has to crouch down on his bed to do it while Kavinsky hovers over him, a heavy hand on his back. Ronan inhales and it feels like a punch to the gut and a gun to his head and he realizes that he's hard. 

"Do you want me to fuck you Lynch?" Kavinsky asks and Ronan wants to break something, throw something out the window, wants to crash a car. He's lucky that Kavinsky is there because he's better than any car crash.   
"Do you want to fuck me?" Ronan asks and Kavinsky grins.   
"I want to wreck you," he says and pushes Ronan down on the bed.   
"Can you keep quiet or do you want me to stuff your mouth with something so we don't wake up Dick 3?"   
Ronan groans at that, and rocks hips up against Kavinsky.   
Then Kavinsky slaps him in the face and it feels like being electrocuted.   
"Answer me Lynch," he says, and wrinkles his eyebrows when he doesn't quite catch Ronan's answer.   
"What was that?" he asks. Ronan face burns. Kavinsky leans down, his ear hovering a few centimeters from Ronan's lips.   
"Do that again," Ronan chokes out, and Kavinsky smiles.   
He slaps him again and Ronan's face is red both with embarrassment and the heat of it. He closes his eyes, tilts his face away from Kavinsky. Pretends that they don't know each other.   
Kavinsky grips his jaw and forces Ronan to face him.   
"Look at me," he says, "don't be a pussy."  
Ronan opens his eyes and Kavinsky shows him his teeth and doesn't loosen his grip on Ronan's jaw. He slaps him again and again, pinning Ronan's arms under his knees. Ronan jerks his hips into nothing, grinds his teeth together and breathes out through his nose in short, harsh bursts of sound. It's the only disturbance in the quiet room aside from the sound of skin on skin when Kavinsky's hand collides with his face.   
"Look at you," Kavinsky says. "You look like some kind of angry bull. If this was a rodeo I'd win a prize for staying on you this long."   
"You wouldn't win jack shit," Ronan spits. "You'd be on your ass in the dirt in less than four seconds."  
Kavinsky laughs.  
"If you really want me to get off you so bad then why don't you just make me?" he teases, a challenge that they both know Ronan won't accept. Ronan's face grows even redder with each passing second where he doesn't move until Kavinsky breaks the silence: "I knew you liked being my bitch."   
He caresses Ronan's bottom lip with his thumb. It's still a little swollen from when he bit it in his car last week.   
"You like it too," Ronan says. It's sounds like an accusation, spit out angrily around Kavinsky's thumb. But Kavinsky knows Ronan too well by now and he knows that really he's saying "You like it too, right?" so he pushes another finger into Ronan's mouth and says "Yeah babe, I like it."   
And he touches Ronan's lips and opens his pants and tells Ronan to open up wide like a good boy which both pisses Ronan off and turns him on. 

It's not a good angle and Ronan can't move around a lot, but the feeling of Kavinsky towering over him and leaning down and sticking his cock into Ronan's mouth makes his heart beat wild and fast. Kavinsky crouches down and holds onto his skull and rolls his hips. Ronan chokes and gags and he can feel his nose running and tears streaming down his face and his whole body is thrumming with energy. Above him Kavinsky is grunting as he presses Ronan's head into the mattress with his bodyweight and his vision is blurry. Kavinsky pulls back a little and looks at him and whispers "fuck yeah Lynch."   
He lets Ronan breathe for a bit and Ronan gasps and gestures for Kavinsky to move back. Kavinsky straddles his lap instead of his chest and Ronan lifts up his arms, numb and prickling from Kavinsky's legs resting on them, and wipes drool off his chin.   
"Fuck me," he slurs and turns onto his stomach. 

Kavinsky fingers him until he bites at his sheets to keep from crying out, and everything is so messy and good. His face wet with tears and drool, lube dripping down the inside of his thighs. Kavinsky kisses his way down his spine and bites into the meat of his ass. Holds his hips in a painful grip, leaving long blue bruises for tomorrow. He licks into him and this time Ronan really does cry out and Kavinsky slaps his ass and smiles against him.   
"Do you want to wake up Dick?" he asks. "Maybe you really do want him to walk in here and find you with my tongue in your ass."   
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Ronan says, because at this point this is the best he can do. He reaches back and pulls at Kavinsky's hair, tries to pull him closer, move his hips and moans into the mattress.   
"Easy boy," Kavinsky says and pulls back. Ronan feels him push into him a moment later.   
Kavinsky holds him down, presses a hand into his back and fucks into him with deep rocks of his hips. At one point he grunts in frustration and flips him around so he can see Ronan's face while he fucks him. He folds Ronan in half, lifts his legs up onto his shoulders, and leans in over him. One hand holds his wrists down, his long fingers digging into the skin. He fucks him hard and fast and all Ronan can do is breathe out "fuck fuck fuck fuck" every time Kavinsky thrusts into him, and he's pretty sure Kavinsky is saying the same thing. The bed rocks back and forth under them and they have given up all pretenses of trying to be quiet. Kavinsky kisses him and Ronan cries into his mouth: "I'm gonna come K, I'm gonna come," and he knows Kavinsky loves him like this, dirty, wrecked, desperate, for when he comes between their sweat-soaked stomach Kavinsky says "yes, yes, yes, fuck yes Lynch," and fucks him even faster, harder, until he stills and groans and comes inside him. 

Gansey is sitting on the stairs outside Monmouth in his pajamas, drinking a cup of coffee. He shudders, thinking of the noises that have driven his out of his own home. The sun is slowly starting to rise. The door opens behind him and he looks up.   
"You," he says. "I should have known it was you."  
"Calm down," Kavinsky says. "You can go in now. We're all done. I wouldn't try to wake him up though. I think he's pretty exhausted."   
Gansey forces himself to count to ten. Ronan can take care of himself he thinks. Almost. Somewhat. At least in this.   
"Just... get off my property please," Gansey says and Kavinsky laughs.   
"I just did darling," he says.


End file.
